Excursion
by papayabelly
Summary: Ishizu is having mystifying dreams of someone from her ancient past. On a return trip to Cairo, her plane makes an unplanned stop in Cyprus, leaving her to squander the time interim. Will the people she encounters in both dream and reality lead her to important conclusions about herself? Or will she only disappear down a fateful rabbit hole? Aweshipping. Trustshipping. And...?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note

Hello there! This is a Ishizu-centered fanfiction involving a few different characters and follows her relationships with each as she changes...hopefully for the better? Or perhaps not in some cases? Please read on and find out :)

 **Content Warning: Graphic sexual scenes (but nothing violent) and mild swearing, alcohol usage, if you spot anything else that you think requires a mention for readers, please feel free to leave it in a review!**

Excursion

Part I.

Plotinus once said that knowledge has three degrees: opinion, science, and illumination. The means of the first is sense; of the second, dialectic; and of the third—

"Intuition," breathed Ishizu, finishing the quote of the ancient philosopher aloud. She gingerly touched her collarbone, then traced a finger along her neck, feeling the smooth skin that had once been weighed down by her millennium item. The object's dainty form had belied the intensity of its power. The way the device had been able to conjure visions, often times both awesome and terrible, how it would have easily driven any other mortal mad, and how she had become used to its haunting abilities: all went unbeknownst to the regular passerby, who had thought it just a quirky family heirloom at most. Moreover, if intuition was the means to illumination, her divine instinct had been the fuel that lit the fire inside the item and had allowed it to show her what no one else could see. At least, that was what she reasoned destiny had inscribed for her.

However, despite having had a heightened sense of foresight for much of her life, Ishizu had trouble handling things in the present. Sporadic things that happened without warning could be magnificent, like freak occurrences that altered the course of a terrible fate, but they could also be much more trivial. And frustrating. Like, for example, getting into a fight with your boyfriend in a foreign city and then leaving the next day on a flight back to Cairo in a huffy, impulsive attempt to preserve your own pride.

"I've had it," Ishizu had seethed through gritted teeth, "I will no longer tolerate being where I am not wanted. I am boarding a plane back to Egypt first thing tomorrow. In fact, I think I'll purchase my ticket right no—"

"Consider it done, Ishizu," Seto had replied coolly with a wave of his smartphone, "I just bought you a ticket back home. Hope you don't mind business class."

The words he had spoken to her before she had been chauffeured away from his Spanish villa replayed in her mind. _"I wonder if your necklace predicted this."_

She balled her fists atop the seat's armrests. Seto Kaiba could have just let Ishizu leave on her own accord while still maintaining perfect nonchalance, but that just wasn't his style. His style was to let her voice her desire to leave, then facilitate her departure by flaunting his own wealth, while _still_ maintaining perfect nonchalance. It was as if to say, "Go if you want, but not without the bitter taste of my superiority in your mouth." She would have been hard-pressed to find an affordable ticket less than 12 hours in advance on any major air carrier, and he had known that. The fact that she was on one of his planes for her return trip after that argument was a slap in the face more stinging than if he had just acted like he hadn't cared.

 _He wants to make me feel like a child_ , she thought, still stewing in her own contempt, _but he is the one being childish. To get so worked up like that over…over…_

Reclining in her Air Kaiba Deluxe Business suite, complete with a Saatva luxury futon, flat screen, and pull-out dining table, all not-so-subtly furnished with chrome dragon-themed décor, Ishizu stewed herself into an eventual slumber.

 **.**

"Over something that is none of his business."

A voice like velvet caused her eyes to flutter open, and she found herself confronted with a face that was equally charming. Ishizu stared up at the man's elegantly-carved features, emphasized by the soft glow of the starlight that poured in around them. She felt the soft mattress beneath her and immediately knew she was in his bedchamber. Azure eyes, framed with long indigo fringe, regarded her affectionately. Her whole body trembled with sudden anticipation when he smiled.

"It's you again," she breathed. His irises became alight with laughter, and he bent down to kiss her cheek. She shivered at his touch.

"I was expecting a more excited response," he replied, "after all, it's been a while since we've seen each other last. You didn't sleep at all last night. Could it be that you have been avoiding me, Isis?"

She turned away to avoid his eyes. "I was too angry to sleep last night."

He frowned, reaching out to run a finger along her regal jawline. "Yes. That fool should pay for treating you like that. Such disrespect is unforgivable. He is undeserving of your love, Isis."

"And you are implying that **you** are?" she retorted, tone hardening.

"I have been trying to prove it to you, have I not?" he said, brushing his lips against her collarbone. She pushed him away, face flushed. Her own piercing blue eyes met his in a warning, but her lips quivered as if she was holding back a sob.

"I don't know who or what you are," she said, "but you are the reason that Seto and I got into that fight!"

The man looked crestfallen at her words. He quickly recomposed himself and nodded, voice steely. "If you mean I am the reason that you are beginning to distance yourself from that insensitive twit, then you might be correct."

"How can you say that," she said indignantly.

"Easily, Isis," he said, "and besides, I seem to recall that it was you who piqued that windbag, what with being so _vocal_ while you slept."

Her blush deepened. "Stop that."

"I implore you to try and be honest with yourself, Isis."

Strong hands suddenly took her by the waist and hoisted her up. The man seamlessly flipped their positions so that she was now on top, straddling his waist.

"I hate seeing you distressed like this," he continued, "I want to make you feel only pleasure."

"Really," Ishizu sulked, "because I do not find my current situation very pleasurable."

His brows became knitted in concern. "Isis…"

She was silent. He sighed.

"I know I made a mistake in the past," he said, "but I am here trying to make up for it, if only beginning in the world of your dreams."

"What mistake are you talking about?" she asked, " **Who** are you?"

She was shaking. He reached up to steady her hips, trying to quell her nerves with the gesture. "I want...need you to remember…please…" he said.

His pleading may have been vague, but his words sparked something inside of her that she couldn't quite place. Soon Ishizu found herself slowly pulling at the robes draped over her torso, revealing the valley between her breasts and teasing the sides of them. He sighed appreciatively. As she continued to part the sections of the soft fabric, his gaze traveled downwards to admire her exposed midriff. He removed one hand from her and rested the side of his chin against curled fingers, leisurely watching her sensual movements. She couldn't pinpoint exactly why she was feeling so seductive all of a sudden, but the feeling was still intermixed with apprehension. His expression might have been gentle, but his eyes bore a clever glint in them that she thought was all too familiar.

"I want to remember," Ishizu whispered, bosom now completely bared. To him, she was a vision bathed in a moonbeam. The gilded collar that had once gathered her muslin gown was now the only thing she wore on the upper part of her body, and its jewels gleamed magnificently in the lighting. He watched her glide her fingertips along her nipples, a feather-light touch that made her shiver as much as he did looking at her. Ishizu ran her hands down her hips and the sides of her thighs, making them meet in the center of his chest as she leaned in, eyes narrowing.

"But I don't like being used," she hissed.

He formed a small grin. "I would never try to use you."

"And what do you call the past two times we've met?"

"You enjoyed that as much as I did…I'd say even more, since you have the privilege of a corporal form," he replied wryly, "some of us aren't as fortunate."

She looked unimpressed. Though, it was true; the first time he had came to her in a dream she had thought she had fazed into an entirely new dimension of sexual enlightenment, and that was putting it lightly. She had chalked the entire experience up to a well-deserved wet dream that had managed to gratify her in real life. Dating Seto could certainly make a woman wonder if she would ever achieve another orgasm again. Ishizu figured she had been so frustrated that she had imagined up a powerful figure to come take her in her nighttime fantasies. Upon awakening drenched in her own sweat, nightgown completely disheveled, and the image of a familiar Duel Monsters card still burned into her mind, Ishizu had initially been embarrassed. That being said, her dream man was mysterious, handsome, and utterly enchanting. When he had visited her a second time, she wanted to praise the Gods…at least until she had unconsciously vocalized how much she had been enjoying herself loud enough to wake her boyfriend.

"What was it that you were moaning last time?" he asked, snapping her out of her thoughts, "'You're amazing, mage! Please, please, don't stop…my body is yours, mage...don't st—'"

Her hands slid to brace his throat in warning. "Enough!"

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You can be so feisty in private." The man lovingly squeezed her rear and pursed his lips in an enticing manner. Ishizu's expression softened slowly, and she bent down further to enclose her own lips over them in a chaste kiss. When they broke apart, she felt a bit dizzy.

"Are you ever going to tell me who you are?" she inquired, breathless.

"I think you know," he answered, finding the slit in her skirts and slipping his palm underneath to touch her warm flesh directly. "deep down."

Ishizu rested her forehead against his, shuddering a little when he slipped a finger inside her moist folds.

"I don't understand these feelings…" she murmured.

"You will," he replied simply, and as she found herself melting into him again, a distant voice in her hazy dream realm urged her to just trust him, for now.

 **.**

Ishizu stayed curled up in the recliner of the business suite, her sleeping face a look of pure bliss; in slumber, she again ran her fingers along her neck, unconsciously drawing an invisible line in the place of her old millennium necklace.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N

And so we move along!

 **Content Warning for this chapter: graphic sexual content, swearing**

Excursion

Part II.

"Look Ishizu, if you haven't noticed, I'm the CEO of a billion-dollar company. I don't have time to fulfill your every whim."

Ishizu was currently giving her mobile device the dirtiest scowl she could muster, hoping her contempt was intense enough to be audible. She wanted her pompous boyfriend to _hear_ how thoroughly irate she was, but she figured that in reality he had probably just put her on speakerphone in the background while he sifted through paperwork. Either way, she had to express her complete and utter frustration at the situation somehow.

"You are the one who arranged this trip," she seethed, "you need to take responsibility."

"You're the one who was so keen on leaving," he responded glibly. She could feel a vein start to throb in her head.

"Seto, _I—_ "

"So you have an extended layover because the jet needed a little more maintenance than expected. You're marooned on the island of Cyprus, a Mediterranean paradise. Oh woe, woe is you. How will you ever survive?"

She could have sworn her whole face was bright red at this point. "You say the jet needed more maintenance than expected—how would you have felt if it had malfunctioned in midair? What if instead of landing safely in Larnaca it had crashed and I had lost my life?"

"You're such a drama queen."

"Seto Kaiba, you are incorrigible. I demand you have another jet come and take me home. I can't even—"

"Look, I have a meeting in three. You can thank me for the impromptu beach vacation later."

At the sound of the dial tone, she nearly hurled her phone at the hotel wall.

"Bastard," she said aloud.

* * *

Most people would have agreed with her boyfriend in terms of the favorability of her current situation, but instead of taking a relaxing stroll on the white sands outside the resort, Ishizu remained cooped up inside her room. She had even drawn the curtains to shield herself from the sunlight, wanting to feel as removed as possible from the world. All she wanted was to be home with her brothers, whom she had called after she had cooled down from her conversation with Seto. They too had been angry at his lack of concern, but still glad she was somewhere safe. She had promised that she wouldn't be there for more than a couple nights. Rishid had remarked that he was a bit relieved that her trip had been delayed, since the northern coast of Egypt was expecting a dust storm. It didn't seem like a hugely disastrous event but it might still prove to be a hindrance to incoming flights. Though, both he and Marik eagerly awaited their beloved sister's return.

Sighing, Ishizu turned on her side as she laid in bed, glaring at the pale blue backlight of the digital clock on table next to her. **4:34 PM**

Had she really spent the whole day in bed? She quickly rationalized that as beautiful as her outside surroundings may have been, there could be no enjoyment in soaking it all in by herself. Perhaps she had wanted to get away from her boyfriend, get away from his obnoxiously luxurious residence in Madrid, get away from the silent limo rides and four course meals where they barely exchanged more than a few words. However, where she was now only seemed like an extension of it all, despite Seto's absence. She was still in his control, her mobility limited by his authority, and Ishizu was not about to put on a bikini and go frolic along the beach with a Mai Tai in hand, like some spoiled young woman on an expensive paid vacation from her rich boyfriend. As far as she was concerned, fate was punishing her, and she would wait out her punishment in dark solitude.

She turned to lay on her back, resting an arm on her forehead. Seto was infuriating, but Ishizu admitted that she could be a bit of a drama queen. Marik had often told her the same thing. Rishid was too polite to say such a thing to her, but his amused expressions didn't hide much of his opinion, which was very much so in agreement. Ishizu smiled at the thought of her brothers. How she missed them...she knew that if they were here with her, the three of them would all have a grand time. Perhaps when she arrived back in Cairo she would plan her family a real vacation—one free of arrogant asshole boyfriends.

Ishizu shut her eyes. She could hear the sound of rolling tides from outside. As the flowing rhythm became more and more apparent, she felt goose bumps bloom along her thighs. Time slowed as she began her descent into dream land once more, but this time it was marked with a profound awareness. The waves glided and crashed in tandem with the rise and fall of her own chest, slowly—slowly

 **.**

"Why so glum, my love?"

Ishizu rubbed her temples. Her eyes were still closed, and she was reluctant to turn her gaze towards him, despite how alluring he sounded.

"Isis, goddess…"

"I am not a goddess," she said sharply, "I don't think I want to be a goddess."

She didn't see him frown in concern, but felt a jolt of static travel up her abdomen when he touched his soft lips to her inner thigh.

"Ah," she gasped in alarm, eyes opening instantly to see the top of his head in between her legs.

His ministrations continued with a gentle trail of kisses upwards.

"Please, slow down…" she said, hand slipping between his face and her groin, shielding herself.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, pulling away and looking up at her with that magnificent smile of his, "you're just so irresistible."

Her cheeks reddened at the comment. "Oh, stop."

"It's true, my love," he said, "and I want to cheer you up. This turn of events has made you so depressed, it's the least I can do."

"Must we always have sex?" she lamented, shifting herself up and away from his form, "Can't we just talk? Do you only see me as someone who needs physical touch as validation?"

Alarmed by her inquiries, he sat back up on his heels and bowed in apology. "No, of course not Isis! I am sorry; I didn't mean to come across like that. I just want to worship you the way you deserve."

"You don't need to worship me," she said, leaning towards him again and cupping his chin, "I want to know more about you."

He relished in the warmth of her hand. "Trust me, there is much I want to tell you, but I need _you_ to be the one who remembers."

"You keep saying that," she said, eyes becoming downcast, "I think you overestimate my abilities."

"I think it is you that underestimates your own intuition," he said thoughtfully, that familiar cleverness sparkling in his irises, "you are an individual of divine instinct…why do you think you were the one fated to wield the powers of the millennium necklace? Fulfilling your destiny as it was written, five thousand years ago…"

"Please, tell me more," she begged him.

"Isis," he said, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and wrenching her forward. It was an action much rougher than she was used to from him, but she could hear the urgency in his voice.

"I love you," he said, "I never stopped loving you. My job has always been to serve the pharaoh, but that does not mean my affections ceased for the sake of that duty.

I hate seeing you like this…so unhappy. You deserve someone that makes you feel endlessly adored and valued, who is unashamed of expressing his love for you so the whole world can see.

I could be that person, Isis. I want nothing more than to see you walk proudly in the mortal realm, letting everyone feel your power with each graceful footstep."

"Mage," she said, avoiding his face. "I…I don't know what to say…"

"You don't have to say anything," he said, letting go of her hand and holding her by the shoulders. His grasp was so strong and reassuring; Ishizu couldn't remember the last time she had felt this safe. When he pulled her in for a kiss, she felt like she was in one of the romance stories she had read as a young girl; no, this was better. This felt real _,_ even though she knew she was dreaming. Ironically, it felt more real than her relationship with her actual boyfriend. Yet, Ishizu did not feel a shred of guilt. How could she? When they broke apart, she could only stare into the mage's loving eyes. As her lips swelled from the contact, she was beginning to think she could get used to being treated like a goddess.

Soon Ishizu was on her back again, and he was back in his original position. A shadow of mischief crossed his face before it disappeared between her thighs. Ishizu felt her skirts being pulled aside and his hot breath against her sex, which was becoming wetter by the moment. She laid there in anticipation, body tense. He gently squeezed her knee to calm her. She momentarily quelled her nerves, but her breath hitched when he kissed her most sensitive spot. When she felt his tongue, she couldn't help but let out a small moan.

To him, her taste and scent was addictive. His tongue slid and curled along her folds, increasing in intensity with each passing second. Ishizu cried out in pleasure, running her hands down her torso and into his hair, grabbing it in fistfuls. He responded well to her aggression, lapping harder and harder, desperately wanting to take in more of her delectable flavor. Her hips bucked against his face when he sucked directly on her clit.

"Sweet Osiris," she said in a half-whisper, feeling lightheaded.

He paused to pose a question at her, looking rather smug. "Are you at your limit, Isis?"

Though she was panting slightly, Ishizu managed to give him a small, confident smile in return. "A goddess has no limits."

He chuckled lightly, still retaining that clever glint in his eye. "That may be so, but I can still bring one to a mind-numbing orgasm."

Her smile was now a full-blown smirk. "You're very modest, aren't you?"

"I think you and I both know I have no need for modesty." Ishizu was soon robbed of her previous expression. As she felt him resume his devilish process, tongue penetrating the epicenter of her most visceral need, she nearly screamed. A hard bite to her own lip restrained the sound, and it died in her throat as he pushed her over her peak. Her eyes blurred as she felt the orgasm drain from her loins. He made sure not to waste any drop of her precious elixir.

As her ragged breathing subsided and she found her heartbeat return to a steady tempo, Ishizu's vision regained its clarity. She could clearly see his self-satisfied grin.

"My mind didn't go completely numb," she remarked dryly. He laughed at her comment and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. She felt him then nip at her earlobe and reply, "Well, I can believe that. You didn't even scream for me like before…. such a pity."

Trying her hardest not to look sour, her attention was soon captured by something quite hard poking at her stomach. She blinked and then glanced down.

"Oh, Mage…" she said playfully, "I think we have some unfinished business."

He sealed a hot kiss against her neck, and then one on her collarbone. Ishizu felt him prod his length against her opening, which was still drenched. "In that case…"

"Get off."

Completely catching him by surprise, she roughly pushed him away from her. Bounding back to sit on his legs, he seemed to be frantically worried that he had upset her. "Isis—?"

However, Ishizu had merely turned so that she was on her knees, her rear posed upwards in offering. She reached back to spread her lips, putting herself on complete display on him. "I want it like this."

His mouth fell open at her statement, eyes widening in response to her boldness, but the look of shock was soon replaced by something else. Despite being initially taken aback, he was more than happy to cater to her preferences. "As you wish, goddess."

He thrust into her, and this time she did scream. In fact, Ishizu did not hold back any of her wailing as he pumped in and out of her for what felt like a frenzied eternity of pain-soaked pleasure. Her bottom slapping against his chiseled form each time he pushed in to the hilt, his hand gripping her hip tightly and the other holding a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back as he fucked her furiously...there was no way she could have contained herself.

"Do you like it, Isis?" he asked, voice fiercer than it had been all night.

"Yes," she said, her whole body aching for more.

If she passed out in a dream, would she wake up in the real world? She would most likely look like she had been doused with a bucket of water, with the streams she was perspiring. Ishizu could hear the mage's own moans becoming more desperate, and she winced as his fingers dug further into the flesh of her hip, his thrusts increasing in rapidity. He called her name one final time before he exploded inside her, his thick release leaking down the back of her thighs. His grip slackened, and she felt his hand remove itself from her, only to feel a sharp slap on her rear shortly after. Ishizu yelped in response.

Her exclamation seemed to bring him back to his senses, and his face became frantic again. "Oh goodness, Isis, please forgive me!" he apologized, "I don't know what came over me! I'm so, so—"

"Do not worry," she interjected, turning to sit up on the bed, facing him. She leaned in and kissed him on his jaw, and then full on his lips. As she did, she had a mysterious jolt of deja-vu, catching the scent of fenugreek and castor oil, and the sound of clinking gold.

When they broke the kiss, she saw that her mage was now surrounded by a blue aura. Ishizu squinted, wondering if this phenomenon was meant to elicit awe from her instead of appearing as something almost comically random: an effect that risked making the whole experience a little too maudlin for her.

"Isis, please don't ever let go of me," he said, looking strangely sad, and she felt a pang of remorse in her heart. The aura became brighter and brighter, until it extinguished like a candle flame and she was momentarily suspended in the dusky nothingness of her unconscious mind.

 **.**

When she awoke in her hotel bed, Ishizu immediately checked the time. **8:15 PM**

Her dream-self had indeed been correct; her dress felt glued to her body in sweat and her hair was a greasy, matted mess.

But even though she looked terrible on the outside, Ishizu felt ready to take on the whole world.

She figured she could start with a nightclub or two.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N

A surprise guest makes their entrance in this chapter!

 **Content Warning: alcohol use, dick boyfriends**

Excursion

Part III.

Seto had asked her on more than one occasion if she owned anything that wasn't beige. Ishizu had always replied the same way, plainly stating that he would know if he paid attention to anyone other than himself once in a while. Fact was, her wardrobe was comprised of a broad spectrum of colors. Sure, she wore neutrals as a museum curator, but Ishizu happened to believe she looked rather arresting in shades of blues, particularly royal blue. Burgundy was also flattering on her, along with dark saffron, and of course, gold.

She could hear her boyfriend's grating sarcasm in her head. "Yeah, because you _never_ wear gold either."

Trying to dismiss the thought of him from her mind, Ishizu held her head up high as she strode along the Kalamies sand barefoot, strappy gold Jimmy Choo's in hand. Yes, it was one of her favorite colors, and she would not stop wearing it simply due to some snide comments from a person who she thought had a negative-three fashion sense. Like she was going to take to heart the judgment of someone who wore so much leather and tacky, billowing overcoats of unnecessarily high drama.

Her chosen accessories, a set of simple, slender dangling earrings and matching collar necklace of modest size, might have went with her shoes in terms of her typical style, but her dress was none of the aforementioned collars. It was summer, and while she had been in her hotel room getting ready, she had meditated on the perfect ensemble for her night out. When Ishizu had pulled a particular article of clothing out of her suitcase—a silky cascade of Monticello peach draped over her hands—she had known that no other frock would be more appropriate.

The sheath dress went down to a few inches above her knees. It had thin straps that led down into a slightly cowling neckline, and a plunging back that had her drawing more than a few stares of admiration. She allowed all of the looks she received to be absorbed into her ego, believing this feeling to be long overdue. Striding closer to the seawater, Ishizu let the din of the beachgoers fade into the background as the foamy tide pooled around her toes. _"Do you see her? Her in the pink?" "Wow…"_

"Ishizu!"

A low, feminine voice called out to her, making Ishizu jerk her head to the side in alarm.

Running down the beach in a white one-piece was a beaming, tall, broad-shouldered woman with flowing blonde hair. She was waving to her happily. Ishizu blinked once, trying to remember if she knew the vivacious person approaching her. "Oh my goodness, I can't believe it's you!"

"Erm, hello?" Ishizu said sheepishly. The woman came to stand right next to Ishizu, her bronzed face leaning in so close that she could smell the alcohol on her scarlet lips.

"Ishizu, it's me!" the woman said, "Mai! Mai Valentine—we met in Battle City, don't you remember?"

Ishizu blinked again. "Oh! Mai, hello!"

The woman rubbed the back of her head in sudden embarrassment. "I mean…I guess I was comatose for most of the finals." Her eyes, glittering violet in light of the nearby torches, avoided Ishizu's own gaze now that she realized how little distance there was between the two of them.

At the sight of her nervousness, Ishizu smiled warmly. Mai Valentine, the brave duelist who had fought against her brother's demented other half and nearly been stripped of her own soul, stood before looking full of life. Who could have predicted that she would run into Ishizu half-way around the world? "No, I am sorry I didn't recognize you at first. Rest assured, I remember exactly who you are. I suppose I just didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah, tell me about it!" Mai replied, perking up again with a large grin. "How crazy is it that we're both on vacation here? The world really is small!"

Ishizu restrained the urge to tell her that she wasn't really there on vacation. Tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear, she nodded goodheartedly. "It must be fate."

"I was just about to order a drink…my third one, actually," she said, looking a bit cheeky, "you must join me for a chat!"

Mai took her by the hand. Not by her wrist or arm, but directly by her hand. As her fingers interlaced with her own, the charged atmosphere of all the surrounding festivities became clear to Ishizu again. Her touch sent a current of electricity up her spine, and as Mai led her to wherever it was they were going, Ishizu shut her eyes briefly and thought she heard a familiar clinking of gold. However, when they opened again, she concluded that the sound had actually just been the clinking of glasses, and she couldn't help but smile wider at the back of Mai's wild, flaxen mane as she followed her along the beach.

* * *

"What a complete douche," Mai remarked. Ishizu couldn't tell if the red coloring her cheeks was from anger or the three shots she had just downed.

"Indeed," Ishizu said with an uncharacteristic amount of gusto, sipping on her Retsina primly.

"Well, at least he chose a nice place to strand you!" the blonde said, "Sweetie, if I were you, I'd be using that dipstick's credit card on anything and everything, including a _much_ more expensive drink."

"Please, Mai," Ishizu laughed, "I told you I would start out slow."

"Mhm," she replied with a hint of mischief, "we'll just see about that."

"Besides, I don't use Seto's money," Ishizu said, trying to veer the topic away from her getting drunk as fast as possible, "In fact, one of the most insufferable things about him is how he feels he needs to lavish me unnecessarily."

"You're complaining about the CEO of Kaiba Corp showering you with luxury?" Mai inquired skeptically.

"I mean, it wouldn't be so bad if he gifted me things that I actually wanted," Ishizu reasoned, "and the fact that he thinks I need to be bought an obscene amount of designer clothing and jewelry, on top of paying for over-the-top means of transportation and boarding facilities, is an insult to my independence. And also—he has terrible taste in fashion."

"I can believe that."

"I mean, all that _leather_."

Mai pouted at her. "Wait, what's wrong with leather?"

She had to giggle at the other woman's expression. "Oh, nothing, so long as it's not excessive."

"Well, good thing that my sense of style is anything but excessive," Mai commented, and Ishizu was unsure if she was being sardonic or not. She watched her vibrant companion order an Ouzini cocktail from the rather amused-looking bartender.

"I'm just saying, Ishizu," Mai continued, "you should try and indulge a bit more, if not in your boyfriend's money then in life in general."

"I've been trying," Ishizu said in earnest, "but I've been missing my brothers a lot."

"You'll see them soon enough," Mai reassured, "but for the couple nights that you're here, you should really try and kick back! I mean, you're definitely dressed for it! Love that outfit by the way."

"Thank you," she said, "and I like your bathing suit." The nylon tricot garb had an unabashedly high-cut panty line, revealing curvaceous hips that led down into powerful looking legs.

"Thanks hun," she said, taking a generous swig of her drink, "it's gotten me a lot of attention tonight…ugh, and speaking of which…" Something in Mai's tote bag vibrated and flashed, casting her face in a bright light. She narrowed her eyes as she fished out her phone. "this clown…"

"What is it?" asked Ishizu, looking quite interested as the other woman grimaced at the screen.

"I was talking to this guy a couple hours ago and he just texted me asking where I was," Mai answered, "he's like some Swedish cruise ship tycoon that's into collecting novelty items on the side, particularly Duel Monsters' cards—what a coincidence, right? Anyway he bought me a drink and we started talking. He told me that he had just purchased a really rare Amazon card, said he'd show it to me if I joined him for a glass of wine at his vacation home later. It was a pretty lame pick up tactic, but the guy is _gorgeous._ " She accentuated the last word by forming an "o" with her pretty mouth on the first syllable, then drawing it up into a devilish smile on the second.

Ishizu tried to hide her disappointment, but it still came across in her tone. "Oh, um, good for you."

"Yeah, yeah…I know I can do better and all that, but I'm not exactly here looking for romance."

"Of course," said Ishizu, polishing off the rest of her Retsina.

"Hate to leave you like this, but I did promise the guy," Mai said apologetically, face softening when she saw how glum she had made her friend. "Listen, Ishizu…"

"Yes?"

Both women gazed at each other for a few seconds without saying anything. Ishizu took note of the color of her eyes again, so violet—or, could it be that they were more indigo in this light? No, she knew what indigo looked like.

Mai chewed on the inside of her mouth. Then, abruptly—"You're so beautiful!"

Ishizu's eyes widened. The other woman's words had spilled out in a much more frenetic manner than intended. They were quickly followed by a hasty attempt to justify the outburst: "I mean, um, you look so beautiful tonight—you'd have no problem finding a hot guy to get cozy with on any dance floor on this island!"

Slowly, Ishizu looked down into her lap. She smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles in her dress. "You think so?"

"Definitely!" Mai said in a sing-song voice, hurrying to her feet, "I gotta jet, but I gave you my number. Text me if you want to get together tomorrow—I'm sure I'll have a good story to tell whether or not this little meeting goes well. Oh, and you can finish my cocktail!"

She chattered to the bartender to close her tab. With a swift hug and a wink, she was gone. All too soon, Ishizu thought, watching Mai's receding form disappear into the throng of people around the beachfront bar. The woman sighed. She was alone once again.

Ishizu took Mai's unfinished Ouzini and examined the crimson smudge of her lipstick on the rim of the glass. The setting seemed less charged now, just clamorously loud. The music bumping from the stereo speakers made her head pound, and Ishizu was overtaken with the sudden desire to leave immediately.

* * *

Heels sounding in a staccato rhythm as she walked down a dark hall, Ishizu maintained a stiff and unapproachable air. She enjoyed being admired from a far, and perhaps she'd condone a kindly spoken compliment or two from a few strangers, but whistling loudly and hurling vulgar, salacious comments at her as she walked by was where she drew the line. In fact, the perverts she had encountered so far seemed to make her nervous towards any person who glanced her way now. As a result, she had stolen away into a relatively inconspicuous looking lounge for some temporary reprieve.

She turned a corner and heard the flush of a toilet. Seeing the entrance to the ladies' room at the end of the corridor, she quickened her pace. Once inside the lavatory, she claimed herself a stall and promptly locked the door. Sitting on the very edge of the commode, she retrieved her phone from her purse and selected her boyfriend's name from her contacts.

The dial tone rang for a good ten seconds before he finally picked up. " _What_ , Ishizu?"

His abrasive voice made her recoil a bit against glass screen of her mobile device.

"Seto," she tempered her words, trying to sound casual. "…er…how are you?"

Ishizu could imagine his deadpan face almost as clearly as if he were there in person.

"Peachy."

She cleared her throat. "I just want to tell you that I'm out right now."

"Out doing what?" he asked.

Ishizu heard the toilet in the neighboring stall flush. "Oh, you know...just enjoying the night air."

"It sounds like you're in a public bathroom."

Why had she thought calling him would make her feel better? "Uh, yes well, I just dipped into the ladies' room in a nearby lounge to reapply some makeup. I thought I would check in to tell you that I'm safe and that…I am managing to enjoy myself a little. I actually ran into—"

"Look, I'm glad you're having fun but in case you didn't know, Cyprus is only one hour ahead of Madrid, making it a quarter to eleven over here. I have a presentation to give tomorrow morning and need to go to bed."

"Oh," Ishizu said, feeling increasingly moronic, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"Yeah, well…" She thought he was going to say something even more harsh, but he trailed off.

"Seto?"

"What?"

"I'm wearing the dress you bought me." Ishizu lied. She didn't know why.

There was silence on the other end.

"Seto?"

"The green one, right?" His voice had become significantly less stern; Ishizu's mood seem to lighten in response.

"Yes."

"Well…" Seto sounded weirdly uncertain, nervous. Like he might have been blushing. However, Ishizu thought that might have just been wishful thinking.

"Well," he continued, tone becoming smoother, "you better be."

She paused before she replied. "…excuse me?"

"You better be wearing that dress," he said, regaining his causticity as quickly as he had lost it, "it cost three-thousand dollars. The way you turned your nose up at it when I gave it to you—you almost made me think I should return the damn thing for godssake. And now you're calling me late at night to tell me you've changed your mind? You really have some nerve, Ishizu, I mean honestly..."

She removed the phone from her ear and held it at a distance as a barrage of insults spewed through the receiver. Yes, it had definitely been wishful thinking. As he went on and on, Ishizu's grip on her phone tightened, knuckles turning white. Eventually, she became so irritated that she practically screamed back—"That's enough, Seto! You repugnant asshole! I hope your presentation goes awfully tomorrow!"

She tapped "end call" with one manicured finger and dropped the phone back into her bag, fuming. Outside, she heard two girls whispering to each other in Cypriot Greek, no doubt about her embarrassing tantrum. Though, it was her boyfriend who had had the real tantrum. Ishizu grit her teeth. _He has to ruin everything! He's incapable of being anything but a giant man-baby!_

She could really find no other word for him. As she sat there, hunched over with arms crossed, Ishizu couldn't have felt more pitiful. It was then that she recalled something, a hazy memory that emerged from the back of her mind.

 _"You deserve to be endlessly adored and valued…"_

Fixing her dress and adjusting her heels, Ishizu burst out of the bathroom stall, surprising the gossiping girls. She walked briskly past them and faced her reflection in one of the mirrors. Her eyes had a renewed fire in them, complimented by thick inky lashes and a wing tip sharp enough to kill a man, if she did say so herself. She came out tonight to enjoy herself, and that was what she was going to do, damn it. She dug out her compact and clicked it open. After powdering her face a little, she snapped the small device shut and threw it back in with the rest of her things. With that, she stalked out of the bathroom, leaving two very confused and intimidated young women in her wake.

Back in the main lounge area, Ishizu scanned the interior. It was rather low-key with a simple chic that was much less exoticized than the flashy tourist-overrun places she had seen before. Though, it was very dark. The slow song that was playing was of a woman singing in Turkish, a relaxing melody that might have made Ishizu drowsy if she wasn't so dead set on having the best damn time of her life. She made a beeline to the bar. Addressing the keep with coolly confident eyes, she ordered a brandy sour with ice. The svelte woman raised a well-sculpted brow at Ishizu, replying with a curt nod. "Of course, miss."

Ishizu sipped on her drink, reveling in its initially tart flavor and sweet aftertaste. _Okay, I've got another drink in my hand…off to a good start._

One brandy sour soon turned into two, and then three, and by the time Ishizu neared the end of her third, she contemplated ordering another just to soothe her morale. In between drinks she had managed to reject four guys, all of whom had been woefully mediocre. Could it be that it wasn't just her boyfriend? Had all mortal men lost the ability to maintain a half-decent conversation? Ishizu bemoaned her situation inwardly as she saw a burly form approach from the corner of her left eye. _Oh, spare me._

Was she just being picky? Marik had always said she had high standards, though in his opinion that was a good thing. Her heart warmed at the thought of her younger brother, wishing she had called him when she had been in the bathroom instead of that raving egomaniac.

"Looks like you've got more company, darling," drawled the barkeep from behind. Ishizu looked up and over to her left, hoping the next guy wasn't another pretentious American. "I know…"

However, she trailed off when she saw no one coming her way. Confused, Ishizu turned to say something back to the woman, but she had already shifted to the other end of the bar.

"Well, don't you look familiar?"

A roguish voice cut through her thoughts and caused her to whip around to her right. Her back straightened at the pale hair, amused hazel eyes and willowy physique of someone who she recognized immediately. Ishizu had been so engulfed in her own fussing that she had neglected to sense the dark presence that was now standing right in front of her.

" _You_ ," she said gravely.

He chuckled at her reaction. "Oh, come now Ishizu, I have a name."

She narrowed her eyes into a murderous glare. "Yes, the one you stole from an innocent teenage boy, along with possessing his body." Said body was clad in a partially undone button-up shirt of periwinkle blue with the sleeves rolled at the elbows, along with a pair of slimming tan slacks. The mismatched hilarity of the get-up in context of the evil that was sporting it would have made someone like her brother laugh, but Ishizu was much more serious than her brother.

The man held his hands up in mock-offense. "That's a bit of an exaggeration. His name is mine and my name is his. We're two sides of the same soul. Even you can appreciate the beauty in that, can't you?"

"There's nothing beautiful about what you are," she spat at him. On reflex she reached for her neck but was soon reminded that the piece of jewelry that she wore now was only an ordinary accessory. "Why are you talking to me? What do you want?"

"Definitely not that little trinket," he said, reading her mind instantly. "I just happened to spot the less ostentatious of the two Ishtar siblings looking rather pathetic all by herself, in a Protaras bar, of all places. I just had to say hello."

Ishizu bristled. "I have two brothers."

"Whatever."

" _You_ are—"

"Despicable, yes, I know. Look, are you that daft to common courtesy? Because the polite thing to do in this situation is say hi back, maybe a 'how are you' too. Don't you know how to have a civil conversation?"

Ishizu squeezed the glass in her hand. "I have no interest in having a conversation with the likes of you, spirit."

"You should really go on talking like that," he remarked glibly, gesturing to the bartender to get him another drink, "with your 'spirits' and 'possessing bodies'…makes you look completely sane."

If she had squeezed any harder, the glass would have shattered in her hand. Could it be that she had found someone even more belligerent than Seto Kaiba?

"Why are you drinking a brandy sour? What are you, a sixteen-year-old girl?"

Ishizu tensed at his words. "Because," her mouth went dry and her cheeks flushed, "shut up."

The bartender handed him a shot glass full of a cloudy liquid. He downed it gracefully and sported a very pleased smirk. She wracked her brain for a better comeback.

"At least I do not look like a sixteen-year-old girl."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh please, you're better than that, Ishizu."

Ishizu's blood boiled, but she agreed with him. It was a tasteless thing to say, so why had she said it? Why was she unable to pull it together around these idiotic, arrogant men?

"Anyway," he went on to say, "what are you doing here? You don't seem like the vacation type, much less the type that likes to drink. The Ishtar clan hasn't uprooted themselves from their noble hole in the ground and relocated to Cyprus, have they?"

"No," she said, continuing to nurse her drink a bit self-consciously, "as a matter of fact, I am here on vacation. By myself."

Her answer drew more of his interest. "Really? I suppose museum curators do more nicely for themselves than I thought."

"Please, I would never spend my own money so frivolously." Her mouth verbalized the words faster than her mind could consider them. If he was interested before, he was completely fixated on Ishizu now.

"Oh?" he said, "Could it be you're here on someone else's dollar?"

She ignored his question and pretended to take another sip, despite the fact that her glass was now empty.

"He must be a pretty rich fellow to just let you gallivant about in a foreign country all on your own. You're quite spoiled, aren't you?"

"Silence, fiend," she said acidly. "what are _you_ doing here?"

He shrugged. "Isn't it obvious?"

She continued to frown at him. "Just so you know, I do not have my millennium item anymore."

"That's very apparent to me, Ishizu," he said, "If you did, I would know." The ring that hung around his neck emitted a dim glow. At the sight of it, she winced. A sharp pain shot up her neck and her chest became heavy as if a weight of sorrow had been placed on it.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked, regarding her with distaste. Ishizu's eyes went from the ring to the face of the owner. His sharp features were outlined with long silver tendrils that hung down both sides of his face. The man's hair seemed a bit more well-kept than she last remembered, and she figured it must have been pulled back into a loose ponytail. Realizing that she was staring, Ishizu turned away, tossing her hair in an effort to look nonchalant. "Nothing. So, if you're not on the hunt for a millennium item, why are you here? Just to annoy me?"

"Don't be so conceited," he retorted, "Like you, I am also taking a bit of a vacation. I happen to have many memories here, actually. Though, this place has changed a lot in the past few millennia."

"I assume the first time you visited this island you were in a different form, though probably still subjecting others to inane, drunken ramblings during your travels and living a life of shameful debauchery," Ishizu said, examining her fingernails.

"No, I had much less free time back then," he replied, sounding aloof and unaffected by her jabs, "my days were consumed with endless labor, and any traveling I did was rarely of my own free will, including the journey I took to this island. But the Greek sun kept me…hopeful."

Ishizu paused and looked up at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"This boy I possess happens to come from a lot of money," he said, shrewdly changing the subject, "and I quite enjoy pillaging the riches of others. His father happens to be here on business, and well, where little Ryou goes I go. This was quite an unexpected excursion from my usual routine."

"Your corrupt existence will be destroyed by the pharaoh soon enough, cretin."

"That color is _immoral_."

"I beg your pardon?"

He glanced at her suggestively. "The dress. It becomes you more than beige."

 _Does everyone think that is my favorite color?_ Ishizu thought exasperatedly.

"It seemed like the lot of you adored beige," he muttered to himself gruffly, "would have assumed you all decreed the whole kingdom to wear nothing except beige. Not me, though. I love bright, flamboyant hues."

Ishizu felt a migraine forming as all the alcohol began to take its toll. "What on earth are you going on about?" she asked tersely. The man fiddled with one of the diamond-shaped charms that dangled from his ring. He then affixed her with a look so halting that it almost knocked the breath out of her.

"I can't believe you fell in love with someone so unworthy," he said.

Ishizu's face contorted in confusion. _What? How does he know about Seto?_ She searched his face, trying to analyze his expression. The shadowed concaves of his high cheekbones made him look wraithlike. As his statement echoed in her mind, Ishizu realized that he had been referring to someone else entirely.

He took Ishizu's lack of response as a sign. Leaning in towards her, eyes bearing an impish shine, he gave her a smile that she thought looked horrifyingly brilliant.

"You like it, don't you?" he sneered, "Being reminded of palaces and conquest. Servants and masters. Destiny and destruction—sins in the name of your beloved pharaoh."

Ishizu felt her heartbeat accelerate immensely when he reached out to touch her arm, but she remained unafraid. Her eyes were brimming with intrigue. He lifted his hand to her hair, taking a smooth black strand through his fingers. The proposition flowed from his lips like syrup. "What do you think would happen if I got you a stronger drink and let you join me in the back room?"

She stared him down, considering his challenge. When he spoke next, she swore her heart stopped.

"Have you foreseen it, Isis?"


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note

Writing this one was endlessly frustrating, and what I thought could be formulated in one chapter is not being split into two! Perhaps this will last longer than five or six chapters :O

By the way, I would love a review or two! Just to get a feel of what people think ^_^

 **Content Warning: Alcohol** **use** , **nasty gross alcohol to be specific**

Excursion

Pt. IV

Pale chartreuse liquid whirled around a toothpick as Ishizu stirred her poison of choice, an extra dirty vodka martini. She had bit off two of the olives thus far and consumed very little of the actual drink. If she had known the concoction would have tasted that ferociously vile, she would have just gone with another brandy sour, but she just _had_ to show off didn't she? She just had to prove her alcoholic grit by buying something that was such a heinous mix of bitterness and salt and tang that it was making her tongue numb and the back of her mouth feel like it was on fire.

Her face was the picture of decorum, however. She stared down the person sitting across from her with eyes as cool as an oasis. They sat together in the shrouded atmosphere of the lounge's most secluded room, surrounded by dark walls bearing framed mosaic art, on which the shadows danced along in the flickering candlelight. The grandfather clock ticking away behind her was a grating metronome to her uneven breathing.

Much to her chagrin, the man looked rather entertained.

"Do you like that, Ishizu?" he asked, motioning to her martini with a tilt of the beer in his hand.

She nodded. "I love olives."

"Really?" he said, continuing to give her that excruciating smirk, "I can't stand them myself."

"Hmm." Ishizu really did love olives. She just didn't like their brine blended with copious amounts of vodka and vermouth.

He took a long, accented swig and remarked, "That's a lovely harem bracelet, by the way."

"What?" she asked, sounding more bewildered than she probably wanted to at the compliment. Glancing down at her hand, she saw the skinny gold chain trailing down from a gilded band around her middle finger. The chain led into a diamond-encrusted turquoise gem, followed by a series of smaller diamonds, and then separated into two other chains connected to a cuff around her wrist. One of her most treasured possessions, she had forgotten that the item of jewelry had been the last thing she put on before she left her hotel room that night.

Looking back up and giving him a hard glare, Ishizu stated, "I would appreciate it if you didn't call it that."

"That's what they're called, aren't they?" he shrugged innocently.

She ignored his question. "It's an ugly name."

"Oh, don't be so sensitive," he said, "besides, you know the west is fascinated by the harem. You're probably an enticing sight to most of the tourists on this island."

"That's an absolutely disgusting thing to say," Ishizu said, venom infused in her voice. She was now regarding him rather dangerously, daring him to make another ignorant comment.

He held his hands up in apology. "Sorry, sorry. I wasn't saying that it was a good thing. I know all about the dastardly history of orientalism too, you know. Seen all those ridiculous 19th century paintings and such."

"Oh, do you now?" she said, clinking her nails against her glass.

"Yeah," the challenge becoming more apparent in his tone, "in fact, I possess much knowledge that predates your silly little existence by a few thousand years, so I wouldn't be sitting there looking so high and mighty."

Ishizu hmph-ed and took an angry sip of her martini, which she instantly regretted. She tried her best to mask her discomfort, though her eyes watered slightly.

"Anyway, that little gold scrap has a colloquial term that is probably mainly circulated by trendy first world teenage girls, and was mostly likely made by some huge mall fashion chain that employs a hefty amount of slave labor," he glossed on as if it was elementary, "so don't let the compliment go to your head."

He reclined languorously in against the sofa. If she was less proper, she would have thrown her drink on him. And it probably would have stung, considering how much salt and vodka it contained. However, Ishizu only bristled further in her seat. "I'll have you know that this was a gift from my brothers."

"That does look tacky enough for Marik to wear, doesn't it?"

"Are you quite finished?"

He only took another draught of his beer. "Perhaps for now, my dear."

"I hope you know I only let you drag me back here to avoid being harassed by anymore hulking sacks of testosterone out there," she sniffed, tilting her nose up at him, "I was actually just about to leave before you walked over. Consider this a privilege."

"Of course, your highness," he said sarcastically, "Although I find it quite interesting that you'd let yourself by pulled away by a demonic spirit who has clashed with your precious pharaoh so many times—and will most likely do so again in the future—just to escape a few morons who want to get your phone number."

"Some of them wanted to do a lot more than get my phone number," Ishizu said looking down at her glass, watching the tinted, swirling liquid glimmer in the subdued glow of the lanterns hanging above their heads. "And maybe I'm just spending time with you now to make sure you don't go harass some other poor soul on vacation who isn't wise to your true nature."

"My true nature?" he said, chuckling. "And what would _you_ know about that?"

The man waited for her answer while she played with the ends of her hair absentmindedly. "I'm sure you'd like to tell me."

"Maybe if you're lucky," he said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. "but I'd rather talk about you, starting with one question..."

Ishizu's hand had gone from her hair to the hem of her dress, repeatedly scrunching up the silky material and smoothing it over again, fiddling apprehensively under the man's eyes as her own focused on the triangular lines of his jaw as it moved. He was all harsh corners and edges, and when she caught sight of his teeth she could swear he had too many. They glistened in his mouth like tiny serrated jewels, making him appear more monstrous.

" _What_ ," he said, with that arresting concentration that could render one breathless, "do you typically…like to eat for breakfast?"

She had been so preoccupied with watching his facial movements that it took a few moments for his question to fully register. "Pardon?" she deadpanned after about five seconds.

"When you wake up in the morning," he elaborated, amused by Ishizu's blank expression, "what is your favorite meal to have?"

She arched an eyebrow and pondered the question. "Well," she spoke calmly, "I typically have a bowl of cooked fava beans with pickled vegetables and bread on the side. Perhaps a boiled egg too. But I wouldn't say it's my favorite." Although, as Ishizu imagined the simple dish, or _fūl_ as it was called in Egypt, she felt like she could devour more than a few helpings on the spot. She had tired of Spanish food during her stay in Madrid; or rather, she had unfortunately grown to associate it with cold, tense silences and dining partners that could not eat without their laptop sitting next to them on the table. It all made her stomach turn in disgust.

"Ah, simple and healthy," he said, nodding.

"What about you?" Ishizu asked. "What is your breakfast food of choice?"

"Whatever slop this one's mother cooks, I suppose," he motioned to himself, and she knew he was referring to his poor possessed soul, Ryou. "though, like you, none of the things she cooks is anything close to being a favorite of mine."

"Then what do you like to eat?"

"For breakfast? Well…" he tapped his chin exaggeratedly in consideration. "I like a good omelet. With feta and tomatoes."

Ishizu chortled at his answer, hiding her mouth behind her hand. The image of him leering over a sizzling pan on a stovetop, mixing together eggs and cheese and vegetables on a bright weekday morning, was not something she could envision in a non-humorous context. She imagined, and she knew it was awful of her, that Ryou would wear periwinkle pajamas. Perhaps with feet as well. Ishizu imagined the spirit's voice in her head: "Whatever little Ryou wears, _I_ wear!"

"Think that's funny, do you?" he asked with a frown.

"Quite," she answered, giving him a tart smile, "anyhow, I happen to make a fantastic omelet."

"Is that right?"

"It is," Ishizu bragged, and when she continued there was a tinge of nostalgia in her voice, "feta omelets were Marik's favorite when he was young, and they still are."

"Oh, I know," he said, waggling his eyebrows at her, "that's why they're mine, too."

Her smile immediately morphed into a very sour look. He appeared pleased.

"And just what is your relationship with my brother?" she probed, crossing her arms.

"Now, now," he replied, swaying his hair to the side, "let's not get into all that. But I'll say it's less of an 'is' and more of a 'was.'"

"Wonderful." The scorn in her voice was palpable. Ishizu didn't know the extent of his and her brother's dynamic but the thought of it made part of her fiercely protective and part of her absolutely revolted. And maybe there was a third, small but acutely irksome part of her that was made uneasy by their history in terms of the current situation.

"Good thing for you."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"Maybe you could make me an omelet sometime," he said, finishing off his beer. "I'd like to compare your cooking."

Ishizu's cheeks grew warm as he gazed at her, completely shameless and goading. His brown eyes were dark and penetrative, trying to stare a searing hole through her pride.

"You're repulsive," she said. "You don't deserve to eat anything except actual slop. Like a pig."

"Don't worry, I know the taste very well. Was brought up on it, actually." he said, shirking her comment like it was nothing, "I wasn't feasting on waterfowl and barley wine like some people."

"I don't eat meat," Ishizu snapped at him, "and my brother and I certainly weren't brought up so lavishly. You should watch what you say to me, demon."

"Maybe not in this lifetime," he said, ignoring her warning. Her jaw tightened, and inwardly she cursed his facetiousness and her own short fuse. She knew that she was only making herself seem that much more easy to ruffle.

"What is it that you know about me that I do not?" Ishizu grilled him. "Tell me, Bakura."

Ishizu could tell that she had roused something new him as soon as she had uttered those last words. He bore those shark teeth at her garishly when he grinned that terrible grin of his, one that sent a horrid itching spell all over her body, making her feel like she was being dusted with hot sand. Her flesh tingled more with each passing, increasingly unsettling, second.

"My name sounds so enchanting on your lips," he said. "I'll have to indulge you just for saying it."

She glared at him expectantly.

"Gracious _I-set_ …" he drawled, "friend of sinners and slaves, sympathetic to the downtrodden...yet still the crown diamond of the pharaoh's tyranny—shining symbol of his throne. Tell me, do you think you can spare some compassion for a sinner as heinous as me? Do you think the pharaoh would allow it?"

"Enough of your intoxicating babbling," she snarled at him, no longer able to control her anger. "if you do not tell me what you know, then I am going to leave." Ishizu stood up from her seat to prove it, shoulders square and chest raised outward, poised and stately.

"Simmer down, little goddess," Bakura said, beckoning to her. "I'll tell you everything you want to hear, if you just come sit down next to me on this sofa." He patted the space near his leg. His patronizing tone was maddening, but Ishizu remained quiet, trying to carefully think over her next words.

"Come sit next to me," was his beguiling offer, "and I'll regale you with tales of delicious excess and deception and the spoils of empire. I know that's the world you really want to live in."

A sharp intake of breath from her end. "Why do you keep implying these strange things about me?"

"You're a deity of perpetual grace," he explained smoothly, "and I'm a demon of hedonism. But there's not enough treasure in the world to sate me. I'll only be satisfied after I can immerse you in all my plunder and decadence...and watch you get high on being in the presence of someone in a league far above those pitiful men you surround yourself with. To hell with your pharaoh and his meatheaded servants. They're just a lowly court of fools, every last one of them, except you. You...you are something else entirely.

You'll only realize it once you go up against a _real_ force of nature."

Ishizu bit her lip, eyes fixed on his and trying to make sense of this deep feeling of yearning bubbling up in her gut. Bakura waited patiently for her answer, enjoying the way she appeared before him, like a fine ivory figurine teetering on the edge of its shelf. He had carved out her anxiety, her doubt, her need for him to breathe into her something more transcendental than her mortal existence would permit. He would make sure that when Ishizu finally shattered into him, that he, a demented Pygmalion, would gather each shard as an adored trophy.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note

I think there's only one more chapter to go! Or maybe two. Eeeeeek.

Our favorite magician will return in the next installment.

 **Content Warning: Verbal abuse, manipulation, graphic sexual content, swearing, brief violence**

Excursion

Part V.

The single word sounded over and over again in her head, a whirlwind barrage of repetition as her mind spun and she was deafened to the noise of her surroundings. Amidst the racket of partying tourists and muffled building and collapsing of the tide in the distance, Ishizu could only hear her own voice. She could only hear the way the utterance had come out level and ended pitched an octave lower. It kept playing in her ears, louder each time, hyper-clear and shredding her senses, that one word—"No. No. **No.** "

She could make out his voice calling her name. Footsteps approached her from behind, her name becoming more distinct as he moved closer, until she remembered it wasn't actually her name he was saying. Or perhaps it was, and she had merely transformed into someone else. The finely pared way he said it, making it sound so stripped down and potent to her psyche…Ishizu felt more than receptive to the way he tried to re-summon her attention, but the most brutal part of her resolve kept her from stopping until she was a yard or so away from the edge of a tall cliff, the vastness of the Mediterranean Sea waiting below.

"No where else to go," Bakura said, watching her back as it stiffened.

"I needed some air."

"Is being with me really so unbearable that you would consider suicide, Ishizu?"

A chill traveled up her spine but dissipated with the breeze that collided into her, a jarring contrast to the hotness coursing through her veins. Her brain slowly wound down and the chaos subsided, with the echo of the syllables— _I-shi-zu_ —grounding her in the present moment.

Gradually, a calm drifted into the air between them. She turned to look over her shoulder, feeling comfortable enough to meet his eyes now. _I've changed back, have I?_

"Why did you follow me?" she asked.

"You wanted me to." He studied the swan-like curve of her neck, the dark, sophisticated arches of her eyebrows and full petals of her lips. She was fascinating: one minute a roughened, volatile Artemis and the next minute the pinnacle of movie star glamour.

"Did I?" she inquired. "Oh, yes." She turned away mysteriously, leaving him to stare at the obsidian curtain of hair that fell down her back.

"I think you might be drunk," he said, walking up to her and gently touching her bare shoulder. Her skin was impossibly soft; in all her entirety, he thought she was tempting. It seemed that much more apparent out there, under the blanket of the night sky, with millions of stars glittering down on the pair. She shone in the moonlight, and radiated unpredictability, with her inebriated aloofness and sullen silences. Ishizu had looked so beautifully torn in that shrouded room just minutes earlier, before she had finally answered him and then stormed out. Out of the bar. Out of his control. Or at least that was what she wanted to believe.

" _Come sit next to me…"_

" _ **No."**_

It was just one word, but he knew that it meant everything to her to say it to him. He hadn't said anything in return, only let her continue— _"We'll do this on my terms."_

"Who was I in love with back then, Bakura?" she asked, stepping backwards into him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and let her lean against his taller form.

"A weak fool," he answered without hesitation, hot breath against her ear.

"Did he love me back?"

"Evidently not." Bakura reviled at a distant memory, but his expression soon turned smug. "He was woefully overconfident in his abilities. An incompetent dolt with a dangerous need to prove himself. A need that usurped his sense of priority."

Ishizu tore herself away and whirled around, the tide turning again. Her eyes gleamed with moisture.

"You're lying," she said, trying to keep her tone even despite the lump in her throat. She was clutching his millennium ring with a vice grip, the sharp points of its charms digging into her palms.

"I don't care if you believe me or not," he said, putting his own hands atop hers. "But he got what was coming to him. And I got what was rightfully mine."

Her hold weakened, and he carefully pried her off his item. Grabbing hold of Ishizu's wrists, he bent down to sneer at her. "Well, _almost_."

She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he held her in place.

"You're a monster."

"A monster?" he repeated, actually sounding offended for the first time that night. "Am I a monster for thinking that a goddess should be treated like one?"

She didn't respond.

"Am I a monster," he said, "for thinking that power should belong to those who deserve it, instead of corrupt idiots who think they are destined for it by birthright, or some absurd prophecy?"

Bakura's eyes were crazed. Ishizu stared at him wordlessly, feeling sobered but unable to formulate any sensible reply in her mind.

"Am I a monster for thinking those who are privileged in this world should share their wealth with the less fortunate?" he went on, voice increasing in volume. "Especially with those who they exploited to amass their riches? Am I a monster for thinking that such kindness and grace—" The waves crashed against the rocks at the base of the cliff; he raised a hand to her cheek—"should not be wasted on such unworthy men?"

Ishizu hated herself for it, but she enjoyed the intimacy of his gesture. She shut her eyes, trying hard to imagine familiar colors and smells: gold, indigo, fenugreek and castor oil, papyrus and henna dye…but it was to no avail. All she could smell was the salt air and his scent, a mix between alcohol and candle wax.

"So what if I am?" he said, lightly pushing her face away from him and retreating a few feet from her. "A monster. A word that your people throw at the victims of their oppression to make us look like we need their justice. Their discipline. They make us feel like we don't have the right to want to better our positions in life. Like we don't have the right to seek worldly pleasures, or vengeance—or a justice of our own. Well, to hell with that. _I_ have the right to want something more than a lowly existence. And I don't mean to be selfish, my dear, but I want it all."

"Show me then."

The brush of her arm against his, a tiny burst of static between them—the moment transpired in a half-second, and soon she was walking away again. Would she always be this elusive, he wondered?

He could put an end to that dilemma if he he just caught her. "Fine."

* * *

It had felt like one sly proposition after the next, but Bakura wasn't good at coming off any other way. She knew this, and he knew that she knew. Ishizu's large forehead hovered close to his, her nose…looked almost aquiline at that angle, dipping towards his face teasingly as she giggled at something he said. He could see, as if in high definition, the flawlessly smooth texture of her dark skin. The musicality of her laugh resonated in the space around them, more captivating than the gaily strummed _laouto_ melody in the background. She whispered into his ear, making a joke about a sunburnt German tourist loudly chattering in his language to another couple nearby, clearly plastered and harassing them.

Bakura smirked and remarked that he didn't think she had it in her to be so mean. Ishizu merely winked at him, lips pursed coquettishly before they drew themselves into a bright smile: all celebrity glitz and personality, and, unbeknownst to him, nothing like she had ever appeared to her real boyfriend. She had warily handled Bakura's first few come-ons, but who knew that losing a bit of his cool, relinquishing some of his control and giving into her lead would be most effective in melting that frigid exterior of hers? _I suppose I am dealing with a goddess, after all,_ he reasoned.

Speaking of which— _"_ I _-set,"_

The smile disappeared from her face as her eyes became alert, and her body turned tense, waiting for his next words.

"What is it, Bakura?" she asked seriously. Again, he delighted in the way she said his name.

He leaned in, looking foreboding. "We should…"

Ishizu gasped when she felt his arm wrap around her and pull her into his chest.

"…request a slow dance." He simpered at her flustered reaction. She roughly pushed him away.

"Keep your hands to yourself, cretin," she snapped, though he could hear the laughter in her voice. They heard the German bellow something in slurred, poorly-pronounced Greek across from them. He received some equally loud, livid responses, and Ishizu figured it had been some sort of insult or swear word he had yelled. The music halted as a shouting match soon erupted between him and who she assumed to be a local citizen.

Rolling her eyes, Ishizu put her hands on her hips. She addressed Bakura with a commanding tone of voice—"I want to go somewhere else."

He shrugged in compliance. "As you wish, goddess."

His statement made her pause for a moment. However, she quickly shook it off and turned on her heel, once again leading him to the next place that suited her preference. As they walked together, she gave him a warning lecture:

"Now, I just came out tonight to have a good time," she said, and his eyes followed the sashay of her hips as she sauntered in front, "And I know I look good. You can admire me. And we can dance. But you may only look, and must not touch—understand?"

Ishizu tried her best to sound stern, but her last word couldn't hide an underlying playfulness.

"I understand," he said with feigned innocence.

"Good." They left the outdoor celebration for a nightclub, a choice that spurred mild surprise from him. However, he quickly got over it as Ishizu took to the center of the floor without any reluctance.

The next hour zoomed by, and by the end of it, Bakura was the one out of breath. He leaned against the bar as Ishizu tapped her foot impatiently next to him. Annoyed, he offhandedly remarked that she was almost as good of a dancer as her brother Marik. She was predictably miffed at that. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she started telling him off in rapid Arabic. He only stared at her full lips, which were tinted orange in the club's lighting. 'Something something _I don't like to be kept waiting'_ and 'something something _you're almost as embarrassing as those tacky bitches who keep glaring at me from the other side of the room.'_

" _Ohhh fine_ , darling," Bakura interjected loudly, making sure the people next to them could hear, "We'll have one _last_ dance, but only because you're begging me!"

Grinning, he took her by the hand and pulled her back into the crowd. She was none too pleased—'Something something _you bastard_ '

However, Ishizu's irritation dissolved once they were close again, moving in rhythm to the remixed Greek pop song blaring through the sound system. Ishizu leaned back into him, realizing she was actually quite tired herself and now only executing simple swaying movements in coordination with his own steps. As far as her no-touching rule, well, she had done away with that within the first five minutes of them getting there.

At about four in the morning, Ishizu said she wanted to go back to her hotel.

He only nodded and motioned for her to lead the way when she said she wanted him to come with her.

* * *

"I despise this interior!" Ishizu bewailed with an exaggerated wave of her hand. Her dramatic pronouncement was in reference to her "Grand Luxury Chamber," the category of her hotel room. Bakura read the welcome card next to the untouched bottle of complimentary champagne sitting in a bucket of melted ice water on the counter—"…Enjoy a space fit for a monarch, with one large bedroom containing a king-sized bed and plasma television; spa bath with accompanying organic soap and lotion set; kitchen stocked with fresh fruit and refreshments in the refrigerator; and chic dining and living areas, all furnished with carved wooden furniture with contemporary furnishings in cultural hues." He raised an eyebrow at the use of the world "cultural."

Ishizu had kicked her heels off as soon as she had walked in the door. She whooshed past him and slid open the glass screen to the outside, letting in the cool night air. Barefoot, she stepped onto the tiled balcony. He followed her, slightly annoyed at her spoiled, petty display. Though, his annoyance faded when he found her leaning casually over the railing, eyes tranquil as they gazed out onto the horizon. Bakura had to admit that the view was breathtaking; he saw the hundreds of stucco houses with their red rooftops trailing up the mountainside to the north, littered with myrtle trees and other lush fauna, and the fertile coast to the south, water tranquil. The sight did not hold his attention for long, however. As his vision panned to the right, he came to focus on Ishizu's refined profile.

"I love being high up," she said quietly, more to herself than to him. He smiled knowingly to himself. Taking her hand, he slowly shifted her towards him, pulling her smaller, lithe body into his. The actions played out like a scene from an old Egyptian film, the black-and-white ones from the '40s she remembered watching only after her father's death. Despite her family's destiny, Ishizu had still been a teen girl once, and every bit amenable to silver screen fantasies of bold-browed, dimple-chinned leading men sporting slick black coifs and sighing Lebanese starlets in ensembles of ornate jacquard turbans, shapely bust lines and defined waists.

She was no longer sixteen, and although it was similar, this was better than any movie. Even if the two of them weren't co-stars, Ishizu was still wholly acquiescent to his charm, his heartthrob bravado, and the way he tilted her face upwards, appraising her docile expression. She was careening on the edge of a different world, and more than ready to fall into him, this unearthed Son of the Nile. The minute-long build up felt like a century, a millennium, or five, and everything was delicate and careful, sequential and perfect.

But the kiss was terrifying.

Placid waters soon enveloped into a violent tempest of pressure, and though her lips were the main point of sensitivity, Ishizu felt as if forces were bombarding her from all directions. In shock, Ishizu stumbled backwards. Bakura pushed her onto the large chaise in the corner, pinning her wrists into the plush cushion, his mouth continuing its assault down from hers. He raked against her jaw, trailed down her neck and dragged his tongue along her collarbone. She gasped when he placed an electrifying kiss on the soft of her right breast, tugging at the material of her dress. Arousal spreading deep from her very core, Ishizu led his hand to her side, trying to guide his fingers to the tiny zipper. When he adeptly located it and yanked it down in a matter of seconds—no awkward fumbling and no questions on how to 'work' it—she knew that he really could not be a mortal man and truly was, as he had said, a force of nature. The garb, along with her brassiere and underwear, were pulled off quickly and discarded onto the floor beneath them. He resumed his kisses, now accompanied with significantly more squeezing and stroking and general exploring from his hands. She squeaked when his fingers brushed the unevenly trimmed patch of hair inches below her navel. He drew back, chuckling at her, and looked down to survey her little, lopsided delta of Venus. Ishizu felt her face heat up in embarrassment but caught her nerves and compressed them into one very defiant glare. He saw her glowering and laughed. It was a more liberal, relishing sound than the little snicker he had let out before.

"Problem, I- _set?_ " he asked, holding her legs on either side of him.

"I thought I told you I don't like to be kept waiting," she answered. She then muttered something else in Arabic, and then something else in a language he understood quite clearly. Her words, a Coptic command for him to continue, stoked a flame of provocation deep within him. His eyes darkened and turned unkind. Ishizu watched as Bakura unbuttoned his shirt, a laborious process that took much longer than she thought necessary. Slowly, he shrugged it off and removed his ring as well, dexterously letting them join her dress and underthings at the base of the chaise. His pale physique was marked by lean muscle and a scarce distribution of thin, almost translucently white hairs along the slender dell between his pectorals. He unbuttoned his trousers but kept them on. Stare unyielding, he lifted his hand to his lips and licked his middle and forefinger, momentarily engulfing both in his mouth.

Ishizu didn't break eye contact. When the same hand lowered itself down to her open legs, she watched him form the words, bearing his teeth as he did, a jackal-faced cur between her thighs.

"Look good for me."

She knew that she was not as fair as the actresses in those movies. Her complexion, an entrancing shade of umber with cool russet undertones, was one of the most striking things about her. That and her bone structure, narrow and rounded in all the right places, appealed to him in a manner far beyond any wan, lifeless woman in black and white. Heat rolled off of her in waves; she was life, vitality, and color, and she didn't even have to try. Bakura knew this, but he had wanted to make that statement: an order to a divine being made pliable to his influence.

He believed that a deity would cease to be one if tainted by an incomparably devilish persuasion.

Digits slipped inside. Palms went to caress feverishly. Ishizu touched her own chest, and he watched her enhance her own pleasure as he moved his fingers inside her. She moved her hips, trying to grind against him, but he pulled out before she could satiate herself too much. The part of his underwear that she could see had protruded noticeably, cloth tight around his hardened member.

Bakura leaned over her, bringing his soaked digits to hover above her pink lips. She could see her slick essence glistening on his fingertips.

"You…"

"Do I seem familiar?" he asked cryptically. That was who he was, she thought, someone who only spoke in riddles. Cunning and expressive with his hands, a phantom that waded in the shadows until he could suck someone in completely. At this point, she would say she was more than waist deep, and she was indifferent to how much longer it would take for her to be consumed entirely. Ishizu felt as if time had stopped; she could no longer feel the evening breeze, nor hear the sound of the tide, or smell the salt in the air. She had descended into an isolated, alternate history of which he was the only other occupant. No, he not only occupied it—he reigned over it. His domain was full of degenerate surplus, warped-looking mile-high piles of gold and silver, melting silhouettes of ill-gotten capital against an expanse of black emptiness.

A flick of her tongue – she tasted herself – and then a long sensuous suck. Her vision distorted, first seeing his white visage and then a face of someone similar, who was less ghostly and more sinister, because of the dangerously personal, palpable desire for vengeance in his gray eyes. His hair was wilder, body burlier and browned from decades of bonded work, and he had a scar running down from under his right eye.

Sometime during her reverie, he had done away with his pants and underwear. He positioned herself at her entrance, which was dripping with urgency. She felt him press against her, and groaned at the sensation.

"What's this?" he murmured against her cheek. "A whore in the pharaoh's court?"

Ishizu's brain suddenly pulsed with alarm. Time started ticking again.

Feeling him enter by the tip, she took her hands and thrust them forward, pushing him off of her at once. He fell to the floor, disoriented at the sudden motion. In a matter of seconds, she had pulled her panties back on. Slipping her arms back through the loops of her bra straps, she regarded him hostilely. He had an expression to match.

"What the hell are you doing?" he barked, hurriedly getting to his feet.

"How dare you?" she said, fastening the hook in back.

"How dare I _what_?" he shot back. "…oh, please."

"Don't you dare try to brush me off."

"Get over yourself," he said, eyes narrowing. He was now standing up straight, fists clenched and still at full length. "You take your sweet time opening up to me, dragging me in what ever direction your bloody mood swings dictate, and then bring me here, to your damn palace of a hotel room—and you _let_ me kiss you."

"What difference does that make?" she retorted shrilly.

Bakura scoffed. "You let me strip you nude, touch every part of your desperate little body, and just because I say _one_ thing that isn't to your queenly liking, you cut me off?"

"It doesn't matter! I can choose to stop anytime I want! I…I…" Ishizu's nostrils flared with her rage. A montage of the night's events replayed in her head, all leading up to the current moment. As her mind cleared, it began to ache with realization. Bakura could tell she had a wrath boiling inside of her, but didn't know where to begin articulating herself. He took her silence as an opportunity to continue his verbal attack.

"I've got news for you," he said, running a hand through his hair. "You're just another tyrant. A despot just like the rest of them. A filthy mortal woman who could never live up to the divinity of her name!"

Ishizu flinched at his last sentence, but tried to protest. "Be silent!"

" _No,_ " he refused, stepping towards her. "You make yourself out to be a goddess, but you couldn't be further from one. You're a monster, but a special type of monster—the pharaoh's favorite little siren. You think you can separate yourself from your inner ugliness, just because you're lovely on the outside, but that's part of what makes you so vile, isn't it?"

" _Enough_ , you—"

"Your fickle-hearted temptation probably drove all the men around you mad, until they just decided to take turns fucking you on the throne. Yet you choose to be stingy with the one person who worked so hard, who has always had to work hard - and for what? Just a cheap prize?"

He was about to spit on the floor in between them, but she didn't give him that chance. One swift right hook to the face and Bakura was staggering backwards, falling over the threshold of the open door to her room. He held his bloodied nose with trembling hands as she stood over him, eyes lethal.

"Leave," she demanded, voice low. "Now."

Emitting a growl, he stood back up and pushed past her. Going to gather his things, he muttered bitterly at her.

"You'll never find someone who will make you feel this beautiful."

He bent down to retrieve his ring, and the eye of wadjet in the center gleamed faintly at her as he returned the item to its home around his neck. Ishizu calmly walked up to his hunched form and leaned over to pick up his shirt and pants.

"I can get it myself," he snapped. However, when he straightened his posture and looked at her arms, they held nothing. Ishizu's face was impassive. Bakura's head then whipped around to look over the balcony, eyes darting from place to place until he spotted his clothes entangled in the branches of a faraway tree.

"Don't worry," she comforted icily, "I spared your briefs. That way you can hide that pathetic little thing on your walk back."

"You bitch," he seethed at her, gripping his ring, making it glow with his own fury. "I'm going to cast you into the darkest, most miserable hole in hell."

Ishizu stayed firmly rooted in place, completely unfazed. The eye kept glowing, becoming brighter and brighter and filling the air between them with a sweltering heat.

"You really should have learned to respect your superiors, Ishizu."

"Just," she spoke with a confidence that was solely human, and more authoritative than the word of any god, or goddess, "try me."

The eye suddenly ignited with something, exhibiting an explosive spark that sent a scorching pain throughout Bakura's whole body. He reeled over, having the wind completely knocked out of him.

"W—what on earth…?" he said through ragged breaths.

"You had better leave before she shows you worse."

He looked up, face contorted with hurt and confusion. " _Who?"_

Ishizu only smirked, and the fear that devoured his expression when she answered was the most gratifying thing. "I- _set_ , of course."

 _A force of nature reduced to nothing but a pitiful puddle_.

* * *

After Bakura had left, grumbling obscenities about her on the way out and sporting a freshly-formed, charred looking patch on his chest, Ishizu had slammed the door behind him. Her figure erupted into a fit of violent trembling, and she had to lean against the door for support as she took a little while to gather herself. Eventually, she went to shakily collect her dress and slide the door to the balcony shut.

Completely exhausted, she collapsed onto her bed, fatigue overpowering the aftershock.

Unfortunately for her, there would be no rest even in slumber.


End file.
